


The Curious Case of Dean's Missing Libido

by thejabberwock



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Background Sam/Eileen, Dean is a Sweetheart, Demisexual Castiel, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Idiots in Love, M/M, Making Out, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Post-Episode: s12e12 Stuck In The Middle (With You)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 06:46:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9872189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejabberwock/pseuds/thejabberwock
Summary: It’s been weeks since Castiel told Dean he loves him. Weeks since Dean answered him with a kiss. It’s beenweeks, and they haven’t had sex.





	

They haven’t had sex.

It's been weeks since Castiel told Dean he loves him. Nearly two since he and Dean watched Mary and Sam pulling away in Castiel's truck, the length of the Impala’s bench between them.

“You know it’s a little cliché, right?” Dean asked, but he was smiling and the hopelessness Castiel carried with him for so long finally began to fade. “Deathbed confession,” Dean continued quietly. “And in front of Sam and my mom?"

Castiel remembers how quickly the dread crept back in. He opened his mouth to apologize but before he could, Dean slid across the seat. He doesn’t remember anything after that, except the feel of Dean’s lips and the shape of Dean's hands against his face.

He expected sex would follow soon after. But even though Dean invited him into his bed once they were back at the bunker, they didn’t take their clothes off. There were more kisses and then a night spent with Dean half-sprawled over him like he never intended to leave, which Castiel enjoyed immensely even without the sex.

He suspected Dean was just giving him time to recover from nearly dying.

But there was no sex in the morning either, although Castiel knows many humans are very fond of the ritual.

Dean is fond of kissing. They kiss every morning when Dean wakes up, for a long time sometimes. Before Dean finally slides away and disappears for awhile. Sometimes for a shower, sometimes for a run on the treadmill he says he hates. Today it's to the garage to wash the truck.

Frowning, Castiel watches him go. He's surprised by how much he wants to have sex. It's a gnawing ache that seems to live inside him. He wants Dean naked, wants to kiss him all over, wants Dean to fuck him. It’s been nearly two weeks and Castiel is tired of waiting. But if Dean doesn't know he's sufficiently recovered...

Then Castiel will have to tell him.

With the ache renewed, he gets out of bed and goes to find him. When he gets to the garage, Dean is bent over the hood in the short shorts he only wears for this task. Castiel wonders if it’s normal to be attracted to a human’s calves. His eyes travel upward and he spends a moment appreciating Dean’s ass as well. It’s a relatively new phenomenon, this sort of appreciation.

It inevitably leads to wishing they were both wearing less clothes.

He pulls his gaze away with an effort and says, “I’m feeling much better.”

Dean jumps. “ _Shit_ ,” he breathes as he turns and finds Castiel standing behind him. “Make a little noise, man.”

Castiel apologizes by kissing his cheek. Dean sets the soapy sponge on the hood of the truck and pulls him in by his shirt. “As good as new,” Castiel tells him after several satisfying kisses. It’s an expression he learned from Dean.

“Good,” Dean says, kissing him once more before letting him go. “Grab a sponge and make yourself useful. Sam found us a case.”

Castiel is treated to a very nice view of Dean’s ass as he leans over to get a sponge from the bucket on the floor. It doesn’t help the disappointment in the least.

\--

It takes them two days to find the nest of vampires. While they wait for the sun to come up, they eat breakfast at a shabby diner that Dean seems to enjoy.

He eats an entire stack of pancakes before helping himself to what’s left on Castiel’s plate. Sam exaggerates an expression of disgust while Castiel looks on fondly. He likes watching Dean eat from his plate. He pushes it closer.

Dean grins at him, stabs the last few pieces with his fork and then kisses him lightly with sticky lips when he’s done.

“You’ll live, little brother,” he answers Sam’s complaint before wiping his mouth. He picks up the check from the edge of the table.

Once he’s walked away, Castiel asks, “Do you think Dean is sexually attracted to me?”

Sam spits his coffee across the table. “Shit, sorry,” he sputters as it splashes across Castiel’s shirt. While Castiel is still blinking in surprise, Sam gathers up several napkins, spilling the rest of the coffee in the process. “Damn it. Sorry,” he says again, shoving a few napkins at Castiel while he swabs the puddle on the table.

“It’s my fault,” Castiel assures him. “I should have waited until you were finished.” He forgets sometimes how weird humans can be about sex.

Sam shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

“If you’d rather not talk about sex—”

“No,” Sam’s voice is kind of shrill. “We, uh, that’s fine, Cas, don’t worry about it. But, uh, I don’t think Dean would really want us discussing your uh…” He makes a vague gesture with one hand while grabbing more napkins with the other.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says again, meaning it even more. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine, man,” Sam tells him, sounding less hysterical this time. “What are friends for. Dean, he uh, he has a hard time saying stuff, but he did say you were handsome, so… yeah.”

Castiel considers that. He didn't think that was the reason Dean doesn't want to have sex with him, but Sam could be wrong. Does handsome equate to sexually attractive? Before Castiel can come to any definite conclusions, Dean’s voice interrupts, “You’re not officially a Winchester until Sam spills something on you.”

Castiel looks up, smiling automatically when he sees Dean’s grin, and those deep lines around his eyes that signal amusement.

“This is why we don’t have nice things, isn’t it, Sammy?”

Sam just rolls his eyes as he drops the sopping napkins onto one of the plates.

“It was my fault,” Castiel explains as he stands, but he doesn’t think elaborating is in Sam’s best interests. “I think I need a new shirt.” The napkins are not as effective on his shirt as they were on the puddle.

Dean shifts to let him out. “Sam and I have to change out of our suits anyway.” He counts out a few bills and puts them in the middle of the table. “You coming, Fumbles?” He’s smiling as he turns away, not even waiting for Sam’s answer.

Sam gathers his stuff and Castiel follows after Dean.

He takes Castiel’s hand once they’re in the parking lot. He runs his thumb over his knuckles, his face relaxed in a way that has become familiar during the past weeks.

He seems to enjoy holding hands as much as he enjoys kissing. It surprises Castiel, but he likes it too. He grips Dean’s hand a little tighter as they walk, and Dean glances over at him with a soft smile and doesn’t let him go until they have to get into the car.

Castiel spends the ride to the motel considering Sam’s words. Dean did call him handsome. Devastatingly handsome. He knows that humans are usually attracted to people who hold aesthetic appeal. And from what Castiel has observed, Dean is no different.

Perhaps Sam is right.

Castiel pays attention to Dean’s reactions when they return to the motel. The three of them still share a room when they’re out on a hunt. They still sleep in three separate beds—two beds and a rollaway, actually.

The subject of separate rooms never even comes up; not since the first case after Ramiel died. Castiel heard Sam asking Dean in a low voice if he wanted to get separate rooms.

Dean’s gruff reply, “What, did we win the lottery or something?” seemed to settle the matter.

Castiel wasn’t concerned about it. After all, hunts are important. They’re saving people’s lives. They don’t really have time for sex in motels.

He's okay with that.

At least he was until he realized sex wasn’t happening anywhere else either.

The room isn’t large, and Dean and Castiel end up changing in the main part while Sam goes into the bathroom. They’ve changed in front of each other before. Numerous times, even before any declarations were made.

But this time, Castiel pays attention. He notices the way Dean’s gaze moves over his naked chest. He smiles a little when Castiel meets his eye and looks away, but not before Castiel spots the signs of arousal.

He’s seen Dean appreciating a potential partner enough to recognize them.

He puts his stained shirt aside and crosses the room, reaching out to touch Dean’s equally naked chest. Dean looks up and Castiel can feel the increase in his heart rate. “Hey,” Dean says, his voice a little deeper. His smile is soft, if a little confused.

Castiel doesn’t know why he does it, but he moves in closer. Dean’s arms come around him, fingers brushing lightly against his back. It’s not a hug, not quite, but Castiel likes it better.

He feels safe like this. Dean is holding his gaze, eyebrow curious as his arms tighten. “You okay?”

“I wanted to be near you,” Castiel explains, and Dean smiles as he kisses the edge of his cheek, nose nuzzling in that soft way that Castiel has come to appreciate over the past three weeks. He likes every new thing he learns about Dean. He wants to learn more.

“We should get our own room tonight,” he says.

“Sure, Cas,” Dean says easily. “We can do that.” He kisses Castiel properly, just a gentle press of lips but it’s enough for now. Especially when Sam comes out of the bathroom and groans.

“Ugh, guys, seriously?”

Dean moves away quickly.

“We’re getting our own room tonight,” Castiel tells Sam as he retrieves his shirt.

“It’s about time,” Sam mutters. “Seriously, I don’t need to see that.” He squawks in protest when Dean throws a wadded fast food bag at his head.

Castiel ignores their squabbling in favor of imagining what sex with Dean will be like.

\--

His imagination, as it turns out, is all he has.

They finish the case successfully, all of them whole and without major injury. They enjoy a meal together again, Sam and Dean talking animatedly about some movie they both want to see. It’s obvious they’re being fueled by the adrenaline required to kill a nest of vampires. Castiel hopes it lasts through another few hours, although admittedly he doesn’t know how long it will take to have sex with Dean.

He can’t wait to find out.

“You in?” Dean asks, nudging Castiel’s arm and it takes a moment to figure out he’s talking about the movie. “It’s playing near the bunker tomorrow night.”

“Of course, Dean.” His voice sounds rougher to his own ears. He’s aroused, he realizes. Dean squeezes Castiel’s knee beneath the table and turns back to Sam to tease him about something.

Castiel watches them with a smile.

When they go back to the hotel, to their very own room, Dean immediately pulls him into his arms, and the relief is overwhelming. Dean does want to have sex with him. Of course he does. Dean loves sex.

It’s an important part of who he is, which means it’s essential that he enjoys sex with his romantic partner. He was probably just taking time to adjust to the change in their relationship. Humans often do that, Castiel knows. They even have traditions built around the concept: sex after the third date.

And although Castiel appreciates Dean’s solicitude, it wasn’t necessary.

He kisses him, using his lips instead of words just like Dean did. Dean’s hands catch at his back, gathering up handfuls of his trench coat. It feels different this time, a little more frantic. Castiel slides his hands beneath Dean’s layers, enjoys the feel of his warm skin.

He lets his hands wander down to Dean’s ass, intending to pull their groins together. But Dean makes a sound in his throat and puts a few inches between their bodies as he pulls his mouth away.

“We should…” He swallows, sets their foreheads together and his fingers unwind their grip on Castiel’s coat. He takes a breath. “Sam wants to leave early, so we should hit the hay.”

He nudges Castiel’s nose with his own and it’s the only reason Castiel doesn’t allow the sharp disappointment to take hold. Dean is tired after killing a nest of vampires, and Castiel understands that. It wouldn’t be right to pressure him.

“Okay,” he says, his voice gruffer than it usually is. But he’s aroused, and he’s never had much luck in reversing the process when it happens.

It only happens around Dean.

Dean takes Castiel’s face between his hands. He’s wearing that soft smile from the diner, and Castiel doesn’t understand why but his chest aches when he sees it.

“I’m gonna get a shower,” Dean tells him. He kisses Castiel's nose before he goes. With his heart pounding uncomfortably in his chest, Castiel watches him go.

When the door clicks behind him, he sits heavily on the bed. Listens to the quiet and tries not to picture Dean getting naked behind that door. He doesn’t connect the dots until he hears the water turn on.

The three date rule.

Castiel has seen the ritual portrayed on television shows and in movies.

He and Dean have never been on a date, so of course they haven’t had a third one. The date humans use as a springboard for sex. Diner meals don’t count. Sam is always with them. And the one time they went to the grocery store since Castiel told Dean he loves him, Mary was with them. Does grocery shopping count as a date?

Castiel doesn’t know, but Sam will probably give him advice if he asks. If he doesn’t tell him about the sex part.

\--

“I need some advice.”

Sam glances up from his research, but he sounds distracted when he says, “Sure, Cas. What’s up?”

“Dean and I haven’t been on a date.”

Sam blinks. “Uh, okay? Um, we haven’t really had much time—”

“I know,” Castiel assures him, not wanting Sam to think he’s upset with Dean. “I’d like to go on a date with him, but I don’t know where we should go.”

A smile lifts the corner of Sam’s mouth. “You want to take my brother on a date?”

“Is that… wrong?”

“No, it’s great, Cas. It’s great. He’ll like that.”

The worry fades away at the sincerity in Sam’s tone. “I don’t know what Dean would like best. Is dinner still traditional?”

“Sure. Nothing fancy, but you know that.”

Castiel nods. He already decided Dean would be uncomfortable in an expensive restaurant.

“What about that bar he likes?” Sam suggests. “The one where he taught you how to play pool?”

Castiel likes that idea. That’s a good memory; Dean’s smiles and the way he pressed up close to show him how to hold the cue, the proud grin when he managed to get the right balls into the pockets.

“Thank you, Sam.”

Sam nods, his expression thoughtful, and when Castiel stands, he says, “So, this thing? You and Dean? It’s pretty serious for you.”

Castiel frowns. “I don’t understand.”

“I just mean… It’s working out? You’re happy?”

“Very happy,” Castiel assures him. He’ll be even happier after their third date.

“Good,” Sam says, more emphatically than the answer seems to warrant. “That’s great. I'm gonna make a phone call. You going to ask him now?”

When Castiel nods, he closes his computer and opens his phone, tapping on the FaceTime icon as he stands. He wags his fingers in a gesture that Castiel takes to mean _see you later_.

"Sam," a female voice answers the call.

“Hey, Eileen,” he says softly as he walks out of the room. “How are you?” Whatever she says in reply fades away as he walks down the hall. Still bemused, Castiel goes to find Dean.

He’s in his bedroom, reading a book on the bed. Castiel makes enough noise this time so he isn’t startled. He looks up, smiles. “Hey.”

Castiel wonders if it’s normal to feel nervous when you’re asking the person you love on a date. “Would you like to eat dinner with me?”

Dean’s eyebrows pinch. He checks his watch. “Didn’t realize how late it was.” He sets the book aside and slides off the bed. “I’ll make something.” He kisses Castiel on the way out the door, and Castiel is left to follow.

“What do you feel like?” Dean asks, stopping to let him catch up. “Where’s Sam?”

“He’s talking to Eileen on FaceTime.”

“Really? Does she have a case?”

“I don’t know. He asked me if I was happy being in a relationship with you and then he called her.”

Dean blinks in surprise. Shaking his head, he says, “Well, what do you know? I’m a good influence on him for once.”

“I think you undervalue the years you spent taking care of him,” Castiel tells him seriously. Dean looks away, but Castiel sees the small smile that lights his face.

Without a word, he hooks an arm around Castiel’s neck and kisses him soundly. He lets him go just as abruptly and goes into the kitchen. He’s humming as he takes out the pots and pans. “Feel like spaghetti? I’m in the mood for Italian.”

Castiel finds he doesn’t want to spoil his good mood. He loves to see Dean happy. “That sounds good,” he says honestly. There probably isn’t a rule that dates have to happen outside a couple’s home. “Can I help?”

Dean’s surprise only lasts for a second. “I’ll show you how to make meatballs. The key,” he says with a grin as he sets ingredients on the counter and moves right in so their hips are touching, “to a really great meatball is ground pork. I know, sounds weird, right, but trust me it’ll be amazing.”

Castiel smiles at the enthusiastic explanation and moves in closer.

\--

The meatballs taste like molecules, just like most of the other food he eats, but he doesn’t tell Dean that. Sam joins them for dinner, all smiles, and then goes back to his bedroom when Castiel asks if they want to watch a movie.

Probably because Dean teased him about Eileen, which Castiel understands to mean Sam has a romantic interest in her. Or maybe, considering Sam’s wink in Castiel’s direction, he’s just trying to give them privacy for their date.

“Just like Sam to disappear when it’s time to do the dishes,” Dean grumbles, but he doesn’t actually seem to mind when Castiel offers to dry. He seems satisfied as he surveys the clean kitchen when they finish. “You know, you’re much better at this than he is. I think we’ll keep you.” He claps Castiel’s shoulder. “So… what movie do you want to watch?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel answers. “I’m sure I’ll like whatever you choose.”

And he does. He enjoys most of the movies Dean shows him. He chooses one called The Voyage Home and they settle on Dean’s bed to watch it, side by side instead of tucked together, but it's easier to watch the movie that way.

“This was a good date,” Castiel says after awhile, as Kirk and Spock talk about whales. Dean glances over at him, a small frown creasing his face.

“Is that what you were after? I’m sorry, man, I should have realized—”

“I wanted to spend the evening with you, and that’s what we did,” Castiel assures him. “I enjoyed cooking with you.”

And that smoothes the lines away. Dean leans over to kiss him, slow and sweet. Castiel thinks he understands why he enjoys kissing so much. When Dean pulls away, he says, “Let’s do it right next time. I’ll take you someplace nice.”

“This is someplace nice.”

“Someplace not the bunker,” Dean huffs.

Castiel kisses him again and then moves in closer just because he wants to. Dean smiles and lifts his arm so they fit better, so that Castiel is tucked against his side. “What do humans do on second dates?”

Dean shrugs. “No idea. I’m not really a good one to ask.”

It’s easy to forget Dean doesn’t have much experience with romantic relationships.

It’s disconcerting, although Castiel isn’t sure why.

Maybe their third date can be a drive in the Impala. Castiel knows immediately that is a sound plan. Dean will enjoy having sex in the Impala.

“Besides,” Dean says through a yawn, “I don’t think we need to follow the usual dating timeline. People go on dates to get to know each other, and I think we’ve got that covered. And technically,” he adds with a smile, “if this one counts as a date, we’ve already had our second date. And our third and fourth.” He laughs a little. “Hell, we’ve had dozens of dates.”

While Castiel listens to the thrum of his own anxious heartbeat, Dean rubs at his arm with the back of his fingers, kisses the top of his head too but Castiel barely notices.

If Dean isn’t waiting for the third date to have sex with him, what is he waiting for?

\--

He wants to ask, but Dean doesn’t sleep well. He’s restless, unable to be still and in the morning, he’s grumpy; obviously a consequence of his lack of sleep. But he pulls away when Castiel tries to deepen their morning kiss, muttering about needing to do something. What the something is, he doesn’t say. And Castiel doesn’t see him again until several hours later.

He smiles when Castiel comes into the kitchen. But when Castiel peers over his shoulder to see what he’s making, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck like he’s been allowed to do since their first kiss, and asks where he’s been, Dean greets him gruffly and slides away to grab ingredients from where they’re waiting on the counter.

“Ran some errands. You wanna tell Sam we’re eating in five?” He asks it in the same way he always does, with the same soft tone, so it shouldn’t matter that he moved away from Castiel instead of toward him—Dean always seems to be moving toward him these days.

“Are you all right?” Castiel asks, worry settling uncomfortably in the vicinity of his ribs. “Is something wrong?”

Dean looks over at him, the surprise melting away to the familiar smile and Castiel feels relief. “No, I’m good.” A pause. “You good?”

“Yes,” Castiel answers, knowing without a doubt that if Dean’s happy, he’s happy too. Castiel goes to him again. “How can I help?”

“Just about finished,” Dean tells him as he goes back to the stove. “Just need Sam.”

Castiel can’t think of any reason to protest, so he goes to find Sam. The worry persists, but when he gets back to the kitchen, with Sam leading the way, they’re both greeted with Dean’s easy smile.

“Stir fry,” he announces as he sets the pan on the table. “I was in the mood for Chinese.”

Sam grins, apparently in the same mood. Dean squeezes Castiel’s shoulder before he sits down, next to him like he always does. Reaches for Castiel’s plate and fills it up before setting it in front of him. And then, like Dean always does, he watches with interest as Castiel takes the first bite.

“I like it better than the take-out we ate on our last case,” Castiel tells him honestly. They both taste like molecules, but Dean made this one and that means Castiel likes it better. He likes it even more when Dean’s face lights up with his grin. He nudges Castiel’s leg with his knee before turning his attention to his own plate.

“Remember that case we worked?” Sam asks between bites. “With the fountain at that Chinese place?”

“Lucky Chin’s,” Dean says, his mouth full.

“Dude. Gross.”

Deciding his worries are unfounded, Castiel smiles to himself and contents himself with listening to Sam and Dean reminisce.

\--

They go out on a hunt two days later. Dean and Sam are convinced there’s a pack of werewolves hunting down the people in a small town. Castiel thinks they’re right, but he’s too busy watching the bartender who’s been flirting with Dean to pay attention as they discuss strategy.

“Cas?”

It takes a moment to realize Dean is talking to him. “What?”

Dean frowns at him. “You good with the plan?”

“I wasn’t listening,” Castiel admits with a grimace. “I’m sorry.”

Dean sighs and repeats what he said, succinctly and without a smile.

He’s been grumpy for the past two days, snappish with Sam and not nearly as physically affectionate with Castiel.

He even chose to sit next to Sam at the bar, rather than the empty stool on Castiel’s other side. He’s tapping the edge of the wood, drinking far more than seems advisable when they’re on a case.

He’s not actively appreciating the bartender, instead avoiding her eyes as well. Which seems strange, given how much Dean seems to appreciate large-breasted women.

When she leans in to pour him another drink, her breasts brush his arm. His jaw jumps, and when she pulls away, he gets up abruptly and mutters something Castiel can’t decipher.

“Did you guys have a fight?” Sam asks when Dean disappears into the crowd. He’s playing with the cap from his beer, eyes lifted just enough to see Castiel’s expression.

“I…” Castiel frowns, too surprised to answer without further thought. He tries to remember an argument and can only think of the one they’d had about his choice to kill Billie. “I don’t think so,” he answers.

Sam sighs and flicks the cap. It falls to the bar with a plinking sound.

“It’s always something,” he says quietly before he takes another drink. Castiel should probably ask him what he means, but he’s too busy scanning the room for Dean. He’s nowhere to be seen.

He blinks in surprise when a different bartender asks him if he wants another beer. He ignores her question and spins on his stool, just in time to see the back of the other bartender's head before she disappears into the crowd, following the same path Dean took.

“Everything okay with you?” Sam asks. “Cas?”

“What? Yes, of course,” Castiel murmurs, not wanting to worry him unnecessarily. Not that there’s anything to worry about. He doesn’t know why Dean is grumpy, but it can’t have anything to do with the bartender.

It can’t be what it looks like. He’s watched Dean choosing random people to have sex with enough times to know what it looks like. But Dean would tell him, wouldn’t he? If he wanted to have sex with other people, Dean would tell him.

But they’ve never talked about any of this. What if Dean’s been having sex with other people the entire time?

Castiel’s stomach feels like lead as he listens to Sam talking about the werewolves, but none of the words process.

Dean finally emerges from the back of the bar ten minutes later. His gaze flicks away from Castiel as soon as they make eye contact.

His clothes are disheveled and his breathing is slightly uneven. His face is red and there’s a sheen of sweat along his upper lip, like he’s been running. Or having sex with a bartender in the backroom of a filthy bar.

Castiel rarely understands the way humans tend to lose themselves to anger, but he understands it now. When he focuses again, Dean is looking toward the entrance with a frown. He turns back toward the bar, his expression shifting to the one he wears when he's determined.

He aims his words at Sam as he tosses a wad of bills on the bar. “They’re leaving. Let’s go.”

Sam swallows his mouthful and nearly trips himself getting off the stool but Castiel doesn’t move.

He feels like he’s choking.

“Cas?” Dean checks back over his shoulder. “You coming?”

He wants to stay where he is, allow the anger to keep growing until it explodes.

Dean reaches out, but Castiel jerks away before he can make contact. Dean’s brow creases but whatever he might have said is cut off as Sam hisses at them to move their asses.

Castiel realizes he’s being immature. If he stays here Dean will worry and he’ll be distracted. Even if Dean is having sex with other people, putting him—and Sam— in danger is unacceptable.

Even with that decision made, the anger is visceral as he gets off his stool and leaves Dean to follow him.

\--

There’s no time for anything except the hunt for the next few hours. Castiel tries not to let himself think about it, tries not to let himself wonder if Dean kissed her. How he touched her.

He’s never felt this way before—this jealousy. Not once in all the years he’s watched Dean flirting with other people.

But he didn’t realize he loved him until he thought he lost him to the Darkness.

He loves him so much it hurts to look at him right now. It isn’t the time for it; it isn’t even all Dean’s fault. He can’t help it if he doesn’t want to have sex with Castiel. And they never talked about any of this. Castiel should have asked.

He’s made things needlessly complicated, and he wishes, for once, as he waits by Dean’s side, that he could go back to the way he used to be; when he didn’t have the capacity to feel.

“You got your blade?” Dean asks in a whisper. And with Castiel’s curt nod, he jerks his head to the side, moving forward. Sam and Castiel fall in line behind him.

They move together well, as easily as they always do. He wonders if that will change now that he knows Dean doesn’t want him for sex. How long will it take before he doesn’t want him for anything else either?

Dean likes sex, and it surely won’t take long.

\--

A werewolf tries to kill Dean.

Castiel burns out his eyes and watches in satisfaction as he slumps to the warehouse’s damp concrete floor. But he’s not as strong as he used to be, his grace not as resilient.

He sways on his feet, catches a wall and slides to the floor as well. He hears Dean’s voice, sharp, as he closes his eyes, “ _Cas?_ ”

He opens them again as the familiar footsteps hurry toward him. Blinks tiredly as Dean crouches down in front of him. “You okay?” His voice is strained, probably from whatever damage was caused when the doomed werewolf clawed him.

“I’m fine.” His chest still feels tight, but it has nothing to do with killing that werewolf.

Frowning, Dean reaches toward his face, pulls back before he gets there. His fingers clench into fists on his knees.

Castiel tries to pretend he doesn’t notice. “Do you need to be healed?”

“I’m good,” Dean says gruffly. But Castiel can see the claw marks on his neck. He extends his fingers, but Dean shakes his head. “Later,” he mutters. “When you’re feeling better.”

He pushes back to his feet, flexes his fingers before offering them. Castiel accepts, lets Dean pull him to his feet. He’s released immediately.

“Everyone good?” Sam asks, from where he’s lying on the floor. He was thrown into a wall but he doesn’t look injured.

Dean gives his brother the same answer, offers the same hand to help Sam up. He retrieves Castiel’s blade from the floor, hands it over and grunts at them to get a move on.

Their motel isn’t far. The ride is quiet, with only the radio to fill the silence, but that’s not unheard of after a hunt. Maybe that’s why Sam doesn’t intervene; he looks like he’s trying to sleep.

And when they get to the motel, Dean stops him with a hand on his arm. “You hit your head pretty hard.”

“You say that like it’s a new phenomenon,” Sam grumbles. “Dude, I’m fine.” But he lets Dean check his eyes with a flashlight, smirks at his brother’s reluctant agreement that he doesn’t have a concussion and lets him get out of the car.

“You need something for it?” Dean asks as he gets out too.

“I’m good. I’m going to sleep. See you in the morning. Night, Cas.”

“Goodnight, Sam.”

He gives them a little wave before he goes into his room.

Castiel wishes they were still sharing.

The quiet feels awkward, like it did when they were both ignoring each other after Dean made that deal with Billie. But this time, Dean doesn’t know why he’s angry.

Castiel watches him as he unloads the silver bullets from his gun, puts them neatly back in their case. The scratches on his neck are still bleeding.

“I can heal you,” Castiel tells him.

“It’s fine, Cas. They’re not that deep.”

“Then let me heal them.” He doesn’t mean to snap the words, but the anger is still there, just as raw. Even if Dean wasn’t trying to hurt him, it doesn’t seem to matter. He waits for Dean’s quiet acquiescence before he moves closer.

He pours a little of his grace into the wound, just enough that the skin is pulled back together, the blood whisked away. Dean blinks, like he always does when they do this, like he’s surprised at whatever he feels.

Castiel wants to ask him what he feels, but he can’t bring the words up. He drops his hand and steps back. Dean touches the newly healed skin, murmurs a thank you and then he looks away. His jaw flexes and finally he asks roughly, “You okay?” He glances back when he’s met with more silence. His expression is closed off; it makes Castiel’s chest ache.

“No.”

Dean nods, just a little bob of his head. “Okay?” He angles his body toward the door, every muscle tense.

“Dean…” Needlessly complicated. “I know you enjoy sex,” he says carefully, wanting to avoid any future misunderstandings.

The line of Dean’s jaw works, but he doesn’t offer anything and Castiel’s courage falters.

“I understand,” he tries again, “if you felt you needed to find it elsewhere.”

Dean frowns, his body angling back toward Castiel. “What?”

“With the bartender. If it was with the bartender, I understand, but I would rather—”

“What are you talking about? You think I had sex with the bartender?”

“I…”

“What the hell, Cas?”

The hurt is fading quickly, leaving only confusion in its wake. “You didn’t have sex with her?”

“I didn’t have sex with anybody!” Dean scowls, punching out a breath as he turns away. When he turns back again, his face is twisted with hurt instead of anger. “Is that what you’re pissed about?”

“I’ve been trying to figure out why you don't want to have sex with me,” Castiel tries to explain.

Dean sits on the bed, mouth parted with his bewilderment. “You’ve been…” He shakes his head, but it doesn’t seem to help. “Cas, I'm just trying to respect your sacred angel oath.”

“What?”

“No greater sin than to lay with a human…” Dean grimaces. “The big taboo that no angels are allowed to break on pain of death. The one Benjamin apparently worked around by possessing his vessel for a hundred years.”

“Dean…” He's so confused he can't seem to form words.

Dean’s eyebrows rise, his eyes widening like a question.

“Dean,” Castiel says again, firmly this time, “I’ve broken every other angelic taboo, every oath. I chose you, over everything. That oath doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“Cas—”

“Weren’t you listening to me that night? You changed me, showed me a better way and I meant what I said. I love you, and that means I want to share everything with you. That includes sex.”

Dean is staring at him, no sign that the words make him happy. “Are you sure?” he finally asks. “If it’s such a huge thing—”

“I betrayed my brethren just so you could go to Sam,” Castiel reminds him, exasperated himself. “To try to stop him from killing Lilith. I died for that, Dean.”

“I know, Cas. But—”

Castiel narrows his eyes. “If you don’t want to have sex with me, you should just tell me. If you’re not sexually attracted to me—”

“What? Jeez, Cas, _no_. That’s not the problem. There’s no problem,” he says, rubbing his palms against his jeans. “I don’t even know why I’m arguing with you,” he mutters. “I want to have sex with you, okay?” he says when Castiel doesn’t reply. “I’ve been driving myself crazy trying not to think about it. It's why I've been such a dick lately."

Castiel tries to protest that he hasn't been, but Dean goes right on, "I couldn’t focus. I had to go take the edge off at that bar, which is fucking embarrassing... Jerking off in the bathroom like some goddamn perv.”

His cheeks are tinged with red as he looks away and Castiel finds himself smiling slowly. “You were masturbating?”

Dean scowls. “Well, I wasn’t fucking some bartender.”

That takes the smile away. “I shouldn’t have made that assumption.”

Dean doesn’t say anything. He’s staring toward the opposite wall, his shoulders hunched up. Eventually, his voice strained, he says, “How could you think...”

Castiel’s chest tightens. It’s always been a miserable feeling, knowing he’s hurt Dean. “I’m sorry.” He wants to touch him, reassure him somehow but he doesn’t know if Dean wants him to. “I didn’t understand why you didn’t want to have sex with me.”

“You could have just asked.”

“I’m sorry.”

Dean runs a hand over his mouth, skin rasping over stubble. “I should have asked you about the oath,” he says with a small smile, the self-deprecating one that Castiel doesn’t like. “I didn’t want you to think you had to. And I didn’t realize not having sex with you would be so..." He grimaces. "I just wanted, I don't know, after almost losing you again, I just wanted to be with you even if we weren't gonna have sex." Dean finally looks at him, voice gruffer as he says, "Sleeping around wasn't part of the plan.”

“I know, Dean.” Castiel's throat hurts, a signal that he’s very close to tears. The need to touch is nearly overwhelming.

“Hey.” The quiet word only makes it worse, but then Dean snags one of his belt loops and tugs sharply. Castiel can’t stop his momentum and they end up tangled on the bed, kissing.

It feels like it’s been much longer than just a few hours. It’s different than the other times, the way Dean’s licking into his mouth, the way his body presses Castiel’s down. Castiel can feel him getting an erection. It makes his heart beat faster. Soon, Castiel is breathing so hard he has to pull his mouth away.

Dean rocks his hips and Castiel inhales sharply. “Feel that?” Dean asks. “That’s all you.”

Castiel swallows, can’t really find any words. It seems to be the case whenever he thinks of Dean’s naked body. And this, with his erection pressed up against him—Castiel is fairly certain he’s never going to be able to think again.

Dean kisses him again, slower this time, but it does nothing to stop the clawing need building in Castiel’s gut.

“You wanna have sex with me?” Dean asks softly.

“Yes.” It’s the only word he can manage. He’s not expecting Dean to pull away. Castiel grabs his shirt, wants him to stay. Dean smiles down at him.

“Not going anywhere.” He takes off his shirt, t-shirt next so that he’s naked from the waist up. “Come on. Don’t want me to be the only one who’s naked, do you?”

“I don’t mind.” Castiel reaches out, tentative, to slide his fingers over the warm skin, the soft ridges of muscle. “I’ve wanted to see you like this for months.”

“Months?”

“Since I thought I lost you to the Darkness. That’s when I realized I loved you.”

Dean’s stomach dips with his inhale and Castiel runs his fingers over the hair below his navel. When he leans in to kiss his soft stomach, Dean scratches lightly at his scalp, inhales again when Castiel moves a little lower.

“Is this okay?” he asks.

“Anything you want, Cas. Anything at all.”

“I want to see all of you.”

Dean doesn’t hesitate, just unbuttons his jeans and works out of them, strips his underwear off as well and Castiel stares at him, at his erect penis, his balls tight beneath and it’s everything he’s wanted.

“You’re beautiful,” he says quietly, letting his gaze wander upward until he gets to Dean’s face. He’s smiling, a shy smile that Castiel has never seen before. He likes it very much.

“Gonna return the favor?” Dean asks, the smile easing into a smirk. With his nod, Dean pulls his tie free, buttons next.

He’s not quick about it though, pushing the edges of his shirt aside and leaning in to kiss his throat and down his chest. He stops to kiss his nipples as well, sucks one into his mouth and Castiel arches up off the bed, clamps down on the back of Dean’s neck.

Dean’s grinning when he lifts his head. “Like that?”

“Do it again.” He’s breathless, possibly too demanding but Dean just lowers his head and does it again. Treats the other nipple to the same while he unbuckles Castiel’s belt, pulls his zipper down.

Castiel is panting when Dean pulls back, his own aroused state evident now too. He wants to tell him not to stop but then Dean slides his hand beneath Castiel’s waistband, and whatever he means to say is lost.

Dean is smiling down at him, his hand warm and heavy but it’s not enough. “ _Dean_. I need—”

“I know, honey, I know,” Dean mutters, leaning in to kiss him lightly when he takes his hand away and Castiel growls a protest. Laughing, Dean tugs at his pants. “This will work better if you’re naked, trust me.”

Castiel scrambles to get out of his clothes. As soon as he’s naked, he pulls Dean right back in, intending to kiss him for as long as he can. But Dean has other ideas. “Just a sec.”

Castiel watches him roll off the bed, appreciating the way his muscles work as he moves. He finds something in the small bag where he keeps his toiletries.

He grins when he realized he’s being watched. Puts his a knee on the bed, which makes his dick bounce. Castiel licks his lips.

“Lube,” Dean tells him, flipping the cap on the little tube he’s carrying. Castiel watches in confusion as he squeezes some onto his fingers. He works it over his erection.

“What—”

Dean pushes Castiel down, and just as he’s about to complain that they’re too far apart, Dean settles right on top of him, their erections aligning.

And that. _That_.

Kissing Dean while they're naked is better in every way. Better than anything Castiel imagined. Better still when Dean reaches between them with more lube.

He groans at the friction of Dean’s hand squeezing them together, presses up to get more. This wasn’t what he was expecting when he thought of sex, but he doesn’t want to stop. Even when Dean takes his hand away, to angle his face up for deeper kisses, it’s good.

He matches the rhythm of Dean’s hips, loses the kisses to their tempo. He’s just breathing against Dean’s mouth but Dean doesn’t seem to mind. He’s groaning, pressing his sweaty forehead to Castiel’s cheek; muttering words that don’t seem to mean anything.

They mean everything.

The pleasure is dizzying, his balls tight with it. He claws at Dean’s back, “Dean, I…”

“Yeah,” Dean breathes, his lips a soft counterpoint to the sharp need. “Come on, sweetheart, I got you.” His thrusts are erratic, the words bleeding together. “Wanted this forever, Cas, me and you, come on, love you so fucking much—”

Castiel has no idea what he says after that, the orgasm hitting him so hard he cries out, hips jerking. He can feel the warm pulse of Dean’s dick against his own.

Dean swallows his moan with a kiss while they ride out the pleasure together.

They stay that way as Dean slumps against him. Castiel thinks he could stay like this forever, with Dean tracing random patterns against his skin.

Too soon, Dean kisses the corner of his mouth and pulls back to look at him, eyes drowsy with contentment. Castiel smiles at him.

“I want to do that again.”

Dean’s laughter slides into a groan. He rolls away, making a face as he takes in their sticky skin. Castiel doesn’t mind, but then he’s not human—and he’s not Dean.

“Come on,” Dean says. He rubs at the bit of his belly that’s not covered in their cum and wrinkles his nose in disgust. “Take a shower with me.” He smirks. “Never thought I’d get to say that.”

He gets off the bed, humming to himself as he walks toward the bathroom while Castiel stays where he is and appreciates the view.

Dean pauses at the bathroom door; glances over his shoulder, eyebrows raised. “Coming?”

Happier than he's ever been, Castiel goes to him.


End file.
